


here in the deepening blue

by h0neybeebear



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Biting, Blow Jobs, Bottom Hannibal Lecter, Bottom Will Graham, Emotional Sex, Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, M/M, Rimming, Switching, Top Hannibal Lecter, Top Will Graham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-26 19:20:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30110766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h0neybeebear/pseuds/h0neybeebear
Summary: Miles away from Baltimore and the BSHCI, he had writhed with the hunger that could not be satiated. Oh, he had certainly tried. He’d masked his starvation in the arms of his wife, in the child he had sworn to always want, in the embrace of nature that had so long been his escape…. Yet none of the old tricks or new habits could eviscerate the desire to see him, to know that he was looking back, to finally feel like a whole person rather than fragments of identities strung along into a suit of lies. That was all gone now, rotting viscera gutted free from his stomach. At long last, he could accept the wound.In the cliff house by the sea, Hannibal and Will finally cross the distance of three years time and a thousand wounds.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 20
Kudos: 125





	here in the deepening blue

_ the sea was singing, _

_ Here, in the deepening blue of our corruption, let _

_ love be at least once corruption we chose together. _

_ -Carl Phillips _

The house by the cliff emerged at the top of the hill, the jut of the roof piercing the iron gray clouds. Groves of trees crowded in around the building, a stark contrast to the modernist architecture. Away from the brick and concrete surroundings of Baltimore, the house appeared like a haven. In the seclusion, the birds tittered, and the world seemed perfectly peaceful. 

Hannibal parked the stolen police car behind the house and exited the vehicle. Although he was still dressed in the prison jumpsuit of the Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane, his posture was upright and victorious, his footsteps light as he rounded the hood and opened Will’s door. 

Will remained in his seat for a moment, staring out through the windshield. He still felt as though he were reeling from the crash of the van and the sight of Hannibal walking free for the first time in three years. Despite the mess of his mind at the surface of unprocessed sensations and details, he felt almost clear-headed in a deeper sense, in the part of his brain where he’d mulled his desires for every moment of those three years. His calmness was borne out of the singular, focused desire that drives anticipation. As one races towards the moment of their most desired outcome, the body begins to flush and pulse, fixated only upon the final destination. He’d worked all situations to his advantage, planned for all contingencies, cast aside all doubts and misgivings. There was the plan that he had pitched Jack, and then there was this. The truth. Denial was a useless, flittering thing, like a fly easily crushed in the palm of his hand. 

“If you join me, you’ll be much more comfortable in the house,” Hannibal advised, drawing Will from his intoxicated reverie. 

He nodded and threw back the seat belt. When he stepped out of the car, he could smell the salt of the sea, familiar and pleasant. Following Hannibal out of the car, he matched his footsteps as they angled towards the front of the house. The face of the building looked towards the water, standing above a dizzying height. 

“The bluff is eroding,” Hannibal noted as they drew close, “There was more land when I was here with Abigail. More land still when I was here with Miriam Lass.”

Will’s tongue clicked against the dryness of his mouth as he stepped dangerously closer. “Now you’re here with me.”

  
A small smile drew Hannibal’s lips. “And the bluff is still eroding. You and I are suspended over the roiling Atlantic. Soon all of this will be lost to the sea.”

Will’s gaze shifted from the ocean to Hannibal’s profile. Hannibal was at ease with the notion, and Will wondered why he shouldn’t be. All of life was a collection of moments, some more important than others. Some people lived their important moments in just a few years while the rest of it dangled behind them like a broken limb. He wondered which parts of him were that broken limb and why he would want to spend all that was left dragging the weight of meaningless existence. 

“Come,” Hannibal said, stepping away from the bluff. 

Will stood at the edge for a moment longer, craning his neck just a little harder to see what lay below. The water had always called to him. He remembered wading into it as a child, standing in the river barefoot until the flesh of his soles wrinkled and whitened. He remembered sinking down beneath the surface and holding his breath until his lungs burst, opening his eyes to the sea until they burned with salt. He stretched out his hand towards the ocean beyond until the illusion that he could touch it shifted before his vision. 

“Will?” Hannibal called to him, shattering the delusion.

He blinked and lowered his hand. “Coming.” 

He spared one last look at the view before turning and following Hannibal. Hannibal squatted down on the doorstep and found the key hidden beneath the edge. Wiping it on his pant leg, he inserted it into the lock and allowed them inside.

The furnishings of the home were not so dissimilar to Hannibal’s home and office in Baltimore, a mixture of clean, neat lines and classic flourishes. Will took in the two panels of windows that stretched across the front walls and converged together, allowing him to gaze at the blackening sky and sea below. He could see Abigail on the couch, smiling at him. She wanted him to join them.

“The Dragon is patient,” Hannibal said, “He will watch us before he decides to attack. We have some time to relax.”

“Relax?” Will asked, blinking away the vision of Abigail. 

“Accommodations for the criminally insane are few even with such a gracious host as Alana Bloom,” Hannibal nodded, “I intend to enjoy every moment of freedom to its fullest.”

Will hummed a reply, wandering further into the open space of the living area. A grand piano sat to one side and he watched Hannibal play it in the oculus of his mind, his back rippling with movement, his fingers dancing across the keys, his face stricken with ecstasy. The imaginary Hannibal turned to face him and held out his hand. His fingers twitched at his side, involuntarily reaching back.

“This is your moment of freedom as well,” the real Hannibal intoned softly behind him, “In a way, you have snapped the thread of your previous life, the one that kept you tethered and suppressed.”

“I could still go back,” Will said, “Could say you forced me, that I was knocked unconscious, and when I woke up, you held a gun on me.”

“You could,” Hannibal smiled warmly, “You could say many things to Jack, to your wife, and to yourself.

“But would there be any point?” Will echoed Hannibal’s words, meeting his gaze.

“Would there?” Hannibal repeated quietly.

Silence settled between them, filled in by the muffled crash of the waves and the wind that whistled against the bluff. The sounds of the sea felt like honesty, the first imagined spray of sea foam across his face like the spatter of truth rent free from the Earth.

Hannibal stepped towards him first. Will could see in the deep-set depths of his eyes that he could feel the breeze of acceptance whisking through the room, pushing doubt from both their shoulders. It made the contours of his face softer, more raw; yet his gaze shifted darker with a brewing desire that had lain in wait for three years, threatening both brutality and tenderness. 

Will’s hands trembled into fists as Hannibal reached him and the touch of his fingers trailed along the stubble of Will’s jaw. He pressed his eyes shut, breathing unevenly through his nose as Hannibal’s fingertips drew along the scar that he had received at Muskrat Farm which stretched from his temple to cheekbone in jagged white and puckered pink. Hannibal’s thumb rose, drawing away Will’s hair from the one he had given Will himself.

“Beautiful, courageous boy… I should’ve eaten your heart,” Hannibal murmured as his mouth dipped close.

His words slid like hot syrup through Will’s stomach, a stark contrast to the freezing slash of the knife the last time Hannibal had held him in such a manner. 

Will’s lashes fluttered, a feeble attempt to resist, to not surrender entirely as Hannibal’s breath washed over his lips, but he knew that what he was reaching for was already gone.  _ He _ was already gone. 

He felt Hannibal’s fingers sink into his hair at the nape of his neck, and then Hannibal’s mouth was crushing against him, into him. His jaw went slack, pleasure keening through his stomach. Hannibal’s lips were flushed with inviting warmth, and when they parted, the scrape of his teeth held the promise of pleasure and eternity. On his tongue was the taste of forever. 

Will’s hands rose instinctively, grasping Hannibal’s shoulders. This time, he was shaking with eagerness rather than pain. 

He knew suddenly that this was the moment of anticipation that he had been flying so recklessly towards. The ache in his stomach that he had carried from his home with Molly to the dark walls of the BSHCI was an ache of desire so complete and so devastating that he could no longer recall what had tempered it for three years of absence. The weight of every one of those days ravaged his chest, tearing through weakened flesh and bone. He felt sick at the thought of all that wasted time.

He heard himself groan into the heat of Hannibal’s mouth and his fingers twisted in the rough, white-gray material of the BSHCI jumpsuit, dragging Hannibal in with desperation. At his reciprocation, Hannibal drew him closer, one hand slipping to the small of Will’s back while the rest of his fingers knitted themselves more tightly through his hair. Teeth clashed against flesh as Will surged into him. He caught Hannibal’s lower lip, taking it forcefully into his mouth at the tremble and twitch of it. The instinct to destroy lay just beneath the intimate gesture, a blurry line between love and hate that he no longer cared to distinguish. 

Hannibal’s fingers seized in his hair, causing a prickle of pain to wash over his scalp as he angled Will’s head back. With his jaw pressed open, Hannibal’s tongue stroked against his palate, following the arch like a painter dedicated to the ambulatory of a church. Past the transept and into the holy apse of his throat, he caressed each brushstroke with rapture until air slipped away from Will’s lungs. Their mouths broke apart, their exhales a cacophony of pleasure and exhilarated pain. 

“Come with me,” Hannibal murmured, his voice achingly husky and soft against the harsh caress of his hand caught in Will’s hair. His gaze was glistening over the flint of dangerous lust, and Will thought could see the entirety of his past and future swirling in the pinpoint of blackness at the center of God’s eye. 

“Where… where else would I go?” he whispered between jagged inhales. 

Hannibal’s pupils swelled in the low lighting, overtaking the sparkling sepia of his irises. A smile curled at the corners of his mouth and his gaze trailed down to Will’s mouth. 

“You have all the places to go,” he murmured, his fingers softening in Will’s hair, stroking the back of his neck until the tiny follicles stood on end. “If only you had the desire to do so. Do you have the desire, Will?”

Hannibal was standing in front of him holding out his hand just as Will had imagined, but he wouldn’t answer the question for him any longer. It felt strange, juxtaposed against all of Hannibal’s previous attempts at psychic driving and manipulation, yet Will could hardly think now of how Hannibal had twisted him into positions and situations without his consent. The power to choose now felt euphoric because he knew that within his palm he held the possibility of walking away and leaving Hannibal forever. It was the only way he had ever been able to hurt him. Returning to him was the only way he had ever been able to find peace. At the apogee of their becoming, he could take them both down. He could end it, and the idea made him tremble. 

He turned his face into the cradle of Hannibal’s palm, and his lips and nose brushed the curve of his wrist. He could almost smell him, how he imagined Hannibal might’ve inhaled the notes of fear and repression that had once clung to his flesh. What he smelled on Hannibal was far different; it reeked of desire.

“I think...” he whispered, sliding a heavy gaze to Hannibal, “I feel alive.”

He felt a tiny flinch of muscle beneath this mouth. Just this small sign of vulnerability made his mouth water; he wanted to both crush him and ingest him forever. He seized Hannibal’s wrist, and pulled him in close, matching his mouth to Hannibal’s red-flushed lips. He curled his fingers over Hannibal’s neck, his thumb pressing into his pulse to feel the rush of blood and arousal. Hannibal sighed against him, allowing his lip to be drawn between Will’s teeth once more. When he released him, Hannibal’s eyes were glazed over, his mouth glistening with saliva. 

“This way,” Hannibal’s voice was braised with desire as his hand slipped away to motion towards the hall. 

His complexion was ravished with heat, mouth flushed with bruising kisses, and Will could only imagine that he was a complete reflection, rendered at last in absolute certainty and acceptance. 

Will turned his gaze to the hall, shadowed in darkness, and it seemed like a portal to a deeper seat of his subconscious. Getting into the car with Hannibal had only been the beginning, walking into the house yet another layer. Now, he stepped towards it, leading rather than following.

When he drifted towards the darkness, his head felt delightfully light and intoxicated. The guilt and agony that he felt only a small while ago slipped easily from his shoulders as though Hannibal had sliced his moorings with the razor sharpness of his teeth, yet he did not feel rudderless. He felt the wheel firmly in his hands. He knew his course and his final destination. Finally, it did not frighten him. 

“To the left,” Hannibal instructed quietly as they entered the hall.

Will turned to the door, to the brushed bronze handle and the gleaming dark wood. When he entered, he could hear the humming of his mind. He could see the clothes strewn to the floor, gambled for at the foot of the altar; he stretched out on the blood-red sheets, arms open, crucified by his own desires. He stepped to the edge of the bed and reached out to touch the sheets, to feel the fabric slip and slide between his fingers. He threw back the corner and the silk billowed into the air, sending up the scent of fresh laundering, soon to be debauched. 

A quiver stroked his spine when he felt Hannibal behind him, his hands settling softly, reverently on his hips. His mouth brushed Will’s neck, misting warmth across the sensitive flesh. 

“What immortal hand or eye could frame thy fearful symmetry...” Hannibal murmured, his voice low and husky in Will’s ear as he spread his hands up Will’s arms and turned him to him, his lips never leaving the corner of his mouth, “What the hand, dare seize the fire?”

Will’s half-lidded eyes met Hannibal’s as he whispered, “Yours.”

Hannibal’s eyes flickered wildly with desire, his fingers spreading with possessive fire over Will’s cheek. He clutched Will’s jaw, his thumb stroking heavily over his cheek and down towards his mouth. His gaze was pinned on Will’s parting lips, and he asserted the pad of his thumb to his saliva-wet flesh in one slow, dragging pass before Will pushed into him, unable to endure the too slow burn of worship. 

Hunger ached in his jaw as he kissed him, spreading through his stomach to the core of his being. He felt like he was being opened, a once abandoned space yawning wide inside him to Hannibal’s blinding light. He clutched Hannibal’s head with both hands, fingers gritting around short-cut tendrils, and reached for more.

In that moment, Will could only think of those three years, how each moment had fostered this gargantuan desire. He imagined Hannibal lying in his cell at night, eyes turned to the sky as he tried desperately to create this moment of copulation inside the inadequate walls of his mind palace. How he must’ve suffered, filled up with desire and longing, with no respite from the thoughts that crowded so easily into his blood and flesh. How he must’ve tried, hands desperate and quaking as he worked aching flesh to the point of painful yet insufficient climax; his mind plunged deep into the distraction of the Norman Chapel; his hours made busy with books and art that never quite drowned out the background noise of ravenous yearning. 

Will was certain of this agony because he had lived it. Miles away from Baltimore and the BSHCI, he had writhed with the same hunger that could not be satiated. Oh, he had certainly tried. He’d masked his starvation in the arms of his wife, in the child he had sworn to always want, in the embrace of nature that had so long been his escape…. Yet none of the old tricks or new habits could eviscerate the desire to see him, to know that he was looking back, to finally feel like a whole person rather than fragments of identities strung along into a suit of lies. That was all gone now, rotting viscera gutted free from his stomach. At long last, he could accept the wound.

Hannibal’s mouth separated from his own, a rope of saliva bridging their parted, panting lips. 

“Let me undress you,” Hannibal’s voice was raspy as his palms spread down Will’s shoulders to his chest. Beneath his hands, Will’s pectorals rose and fell sharply, and he managed to hitch his chin upward in a nod. 

With Will’s agreement firmly in his grasp, Hannibal went quickly to the buttons of his shirt, his fingers holding a barely discernible tremble as he worked the fabric apart and released the shirt tails from Will’s pants. His hands smoothed underneath, spreading heat over Will’s ribs and up towards his nipples. Will’s head canted back and he closed his mouth over a cry. His own fingers were clenching in Hannibal’s hair and digging into his scalp as he fought for control. 

Hannibal’s thumbs skimmed up over his nipples, raised and pebbled to the air and the touch of his hands. His mouth came to Will’s neck, pressing a moan into his flesh as the cradle of his hands captured Will’s nipples. His thumbs squeezed sensitive flesh into the clasp of his forefingers as his mouth consumed his pulsating flesh. 

“Hannibal…” Will whispered, his dazed eyes opening towards the ceiling as he felt Hannibal’s teeth mark him. 

The pain scarcely registered beyond the adrenaline of desire and he cradled Hannibal’s head closer, tilting his jaw back and laying himself open. His flesh went willingly into Hannibal’s mouth, compliant to each scrape and suckle until he was tender and aching. 

At last, Hannibal grabbed the parted sections of his shirt. He pushed the shirt from Will’s arms and pressed into him, taking them both down to the sheets. Will sank into the plush mattress, his trembling limbs eager for a reprieve, his body committed to surrender. He spread his arms out, resplendent in his own self-fulfilled vision as Hannibal’s body came over him, bearing him down into the sheets with exquisite pressure. 

He closed his eyes as Hannibal’s mouth spread warmth down his chest, laying wet heat at the sensitive rise of his nipple. He offered up a husky moan as Hannibal’s tongue traced the shape of his areola before indulging himself on the velvet-soft flesh. Will’s fingers snared in the sheets as Hannibal’s lips closed around the aching portion of skin, already plied to hardness by his fingers and now his hungry mouth. 

Hannibal’s knees were between his thighs, urging him open further with each rock of his hips into him. Will released a sharp breath as Hannibal sucked off his nipple in time to grind his erection along Will’s growing member. Their eyes clashed for a scattered moment as Hannibal’s fervent hardness pressed to the seizing junction of Will’s thigh and groin. For a moment, Will felt utterly breath-taken by the image of Hannibal above him, lips glistening and tasting of his flesh, his gaze black with brutal desire. All pretense was gone, all pretending cast aside. Their faces were naked to one another. Then, Hannibal’s head ducked to his opposite nipple, and his lids slammed shut to bursting colors of pleasure, and he could hardly think anymore.

Hannibal’s tongue laved over his engorged nipple, then sucked his flesh deep into the pressure of his mouth. His teeth closed around skin, making yet another indelible brand on Will’s trembling body. Pleasure and pain peaked together as the bruise formed beneath Hannibal’s adoring yet punishing mouth. Will’s hands tore from the sheets, clutching at Hannibal’s head and shoulders until he sank down, releasing Will’s pulsating nipple from his mouth. Will panted heavily, weakly lifting his head to view the livid bruise that was forming around the bud of his nipple. Hannibal’s recognizable teeth imprints were etched into his skin, glimmering with saliva. 

Hannibal slid down between his thighs, mouth trailing gently now down towards his navel. Will’s stomach rippled harshly beneath Hannibal’s mouth when he felt him reach the raised scar that he had left there, the enduring reminder proclaimed in a still-white lash across his midsection. Although the build up of scar tissue meant less sensitivity around the memento of Hannibal’s blade in his stomach, he could not help but feel each touch intensely. He watched, quaking as Hannibal moved from the right side of the scar to the left, planting open-mouthed kisses to each inch until the mangled white and pink flesh glistened under the pewter light of the overcast sunset. 

At last, Hannibal’s gleaming mouth lifted, and their gazes met in the middle space above Will’s chest, holding the heavy weight of all the minutes and moments of time that had passed between that night in Hannibal’s kitchen and now, here in Hannibal’s seaside bedroom.

“Take off my pants,” Will choked out, his voice seeming to bulge, bloated with grotesque desire.

Hannibal hesitated for only a moment before he unloosed the buckle of Will’s belt and then the button and zipper of his pants. The confining efforts of the material gave way with a rush of relief. Underneath, Will was at full hardness, the head of his cock straining the material of his boxers. 

“All of it,” he urged, impatient with even the smallest hint of hesitation.

Hannibal fit his fingers under the waistband of Will’s boxers and pants, hands tucked just below his hips. His chest was rising and falling sharply as Will lifted up, and he stripped the clothing down his legs. Will’s swollen cock came free of the boxers, surging against the tremble of his stomach. His belly swooned as though he were falling from a great height as Hannibal’s gazed raked up his pale thighs to the flushed length of his pulsing cock. Any sense of shame was far from his thoughts; rather, he wished to throw himself open, tear apart muscle if he must to have Hannibal inside him. 

“Hurry,” Will whispered, his cock pulsating with a dull ache. 

Any more dissolute words were stuck in his throat as Hannibal bunched the material to his ankles and swiftly divested him of his shoes. He thrust the items aside, Will’s shoes thunking and flipping across the floor in his haste. When he came back up, his palms were skimming along the inside of Will’s thighs, spreading him open. His expression was one of infernal desire, hunger and adoration etched across his face as he sank between Will’s thighs. One palm rode up Will’s thigh and took his cock into the heat of his fist.

Inordinate pleasure soared through Will’s body, pulling from his chest and thighs to the center of his being where he was caught in Hannibal’s touch. His head spun, and he tilted back into the sheets, eyes rolling closed. He could hear his breath rasping from his chest hard and fast as Hannibal’s hand dragged with agonizing leisure along the length of him. 

“Oh…” he choked out as the base of Hannibal’s fist came down to the root of his cock, dragging foreskin back from his throbbing head. 

“Beautiful…” Hannibal whispered below him, the first sound of his voice since he’d begun to undress him holding a sort of awe that Will thought he’d only heard him use when he adored his precious art pieces and culinary dishes. 

His fingers seemed to cinch tighter as his touch scaled the length of Will’s cock to the head, causing another burst of sensations to send Will reeling back into the mattress. His whole body felt raw, nerve endings screaming with the even the gentlest handling. Hannibal’s touch seemed to reach past the outer layer of his flesh to the musculature of his body, to the pumping of his organs. The intimacy felt both like relief and torture. 

Will grabbed for his head and pulled him closer if only to escape the unbearable devotion that he could feel Hannibal pouring on his flesh. He cracked his eyes open as the heat of Hannibal’s mouth washed with perilous proximity over his aching flesh. Hannibal’s eyes met his as he followed his directions, directing Will’s cock to his lips; those lips so flush and open, so full with promises of pleasure and destruction. Will lurched into a half-sitting position as Hannibal’s mouth closed over his cock, drowning him in the fiery slickness of his tongue. His fingers wrenched in Hannibal’s hair, seating his mouth hard on his pulsing member. A trembling cry worked from his lips, striking the air with the first notes of true ecstasy. 

Below him, Hannibal clutched his hips, breathing sharply through his nostrils as Will’s cock filled his mouth and his nose dipped into the bed of curling hair at his groin. His lips tightened above the squeeze of his hand, winding another tremulous expletive from Will’s mouth. He rode the length of Will’s cock up to the tip, his lips suckling at the throbbing, sensitive flesh before he released him entirely.

Spit dangled from his mouth as he ordered, “Lay back.

Will sank back against the sheets, his body trembling with sensations that he could scarcely manage. He spread his hands out once more, turned downwards now as he grasped the red sheets for purchase. 

Hannibal’s mouth took him again, slower this time. He played with just the tip against his tongue, swirling over aching flesh and toying with the crease of his hole. 

Will’s thighs seized up around his head, his fingers dragging lumps of the sheets towards himself. He could hear himself breathing out of control, moans winding from his throat. His cock was twitching in the clasp of Hannibal’s palm, arousal dripping from his head only to be swiped away by Hannibal’s generous tongue. He felt as though he could snap at any moment, yet the pleasure went on, holding him at tenuous balance with each and every measured touch of Hannibal’s mouth and fingers. 

Hannibal pushed the head of Will’s cock out from his mouth, his lips barely suckling at the tip for a torturous moment before he consumed him once more. He filled Hannibal’s mouth swiftly, and felt his cockhead bump deep against Hannibal’s palate. He cried out, his crown grinding into the hot sheets. At his base, he could feel Hannibal’s fingers massaging in almost gentle motions that made the rest of his body twist into the mattress.

He arched up against Hannibal’s mouth, rocking suddenly into the slick motion of Hannibal’s lips. Hannibal’s fingers sank into his hip, a muted groan vibrating along Will’s flesh as he took the thrust to the back of his throat. Will rolled his hips up again, enthralled by the array of splendid sensations that came with his cock plunging into the slick grasp of Hannibal’s fist and mouth. This time, Hannibal moved with him, his lips sliding down to the embrace of his fingers, spilling saliva and heat over his own knuckles. 

Will’s exhales were ragged and uneven as he weakly lifted his head, longing for the sight of Hannibal knelt between his thighs. Arousal soared through him as he watched Hannibal’s mouth swallow him with graceful ease, his lids closed in an expression of contentment and satisfaction. 

Pleasure pulled taut within him, and he spread his knees apart, tearing himself open in invitation as he had longed to do when Hannibal had first stripped him. Hannibal’s heavy lids slid open with a sound of gratification, and the fingers of his free hand scraped up Will’s thigh and pressed against the inside of his right knee. The flesh of his palm bore heat and arousal, his grasp firm and decisive as he arched Will’s thigh up against his heaving ribs, forcing him into a contortion of pleasure. At the sight of him stretched open and vulnerable, the tender parts of him exposed, his eyes flashed. His mouth slipped from Will’s cock as he crawled onto the bed between Will’s spread legs, his gaze tracking quickly over the image of Will bent open, cataloging each inch of flesh and twist of muscle. 

Will whimpered, his hips undulating up towards Hannibal’s touch in a blatant plea. Hannibal watched him for a torturous moment, arousal glinting dark in his eyes before he drew teasing fingers along the inside of Will’s opposite thigh. At last, his hand encircled Will’s begging flesh, pumping languidly and gathering up the saliva from his own mouth as he drew the squeeze of his fingers up over the leaking head. A breathless cry wound from Will’s lips at the renewed touch. His left foot, which was still planted in the bed, weakly pushed at the mattress in an attempt to gain further friction for his aching member. The desire was scoring deeper into him, casting a wide net over his genitals, stomach, and bowels. The center of his body was a churning whirlpool of ecstatic, wild desire that had barely begun to be satiated. As Hannibal’s hand moved faster with the rock of Will’s hips, the friction of flesh against flesh filling the room, the threat of orgasm roared louder in his head and spilled from his lips.

“Hannibal,” he panted, his hips grinding in tremulous circles, “Please, I…”

  
The pathetic intonations were falling from his tongue before he could stop himself, before he could remind himself of who exactly held his inflamed cock in his treacherous hands. His agony would only serve to arouse Hannibal more, a prospect that sent a conflicted, lustful surge of arousal through his center. He cracked his eyes open, his cheeks flushing hot beneath Hannibal’s watchful gaze. Hannibal’s eyes and ears were eating up each tremble, cry, and breath that Will’s body surrendered to him, satisfaction written across his features, underpinned by his own longing. 

His hand dragged downwards, releasing Will’s cock suddenly only to spread over his engorged testicles. Will’s head lurched back into the bed with the firm fondling in the wake of rescinded pleasure, his leg jerking beneath the pressure of Hannibal’s hand. He bit down on his lower lip, holding back further pitiful pleas as Hannibal’s palm massaged him. His cock was throbbing against his stomach, wet and ravished from Hannibal’s mouth and fingers, and yet unfulfilled. His hips trembled in fitful circles as Hannibal’s fingers abandoned his aching member for new, unattended flesh.

The fingertips of his middle and ring finger dipped down softly, drawing slow circles over just his perineum at first. Will turned his head into the sheets, a flame of desire lighting up his cheeks at the sensation. His quaking body eased into a concentrated thrall as Hannibal’s fingertips worked lower, seeking for the entrance to his hot, overwrought body. He kept his eyes screwed shut as Hannibal found his way between the taut clench of his asscheeks and rubbed with tantalizing, torturous pressure over the tightly puckered flesh. Slowly, he arched his free leg higher, joining the other in a bent position against his heaving sides. A moan pierced his lips as Hannibal’s fingertips made wider, firmer circles, massaging him towards compliance. Bolts of pleasure and desire were seizing his swollen testicles and cock, and for a moment, he thought he might unwind entirely directly onto his own quivering flesh even without the touch of Hannibal’s mouth or hand.

Will’s eyes jerked open when Hannibal bent over him and imparted a slow kiss to his cheekbone, his fingers falling away. His heartbeat was thundering, his body coming down from yet another painful point of pleasure. 

“Turn over,” Hannibal murmured in his ear, his breath carrying moist heat into the canal. 

Hannibal eased back, and his palm left Will’s knee, allowing his trembling leg to lapse. Will chanced a look up at him, but his gaze was far too cutting, too intense and lustful, to hold for any extended period of time

He was trembling with the reverberations of pleasure and the implications of Hannibal’s order as he rolled onto his stomach. The embrace of the sheets was merciful as his knees shifted under him, delivering him from the brazing eye contact. He pressed his nose into the fabric, clinging to the grounding point of the silky material as Hannibal touched him again. It was just a skim of flesh along the backs of his thighs, but his oversensitized body could scarcely handle even the softest touch. His stomach drew tight as Hannibal’s hands reached his hips and pulled him up with sudden, steady resolve. Clenching his fingers around the sheets, Will held back a whimper as his ass pushed up to Hannibal in offering. 

“Good,” Hannibal’s voice was low and gravelly as his thumbs stroked slowly over Will’s back, the exposed knobs of his pelvis and spine, the flesh that trembled under his praise. “Don’t move.”

  
His hands slipped away, leaving Will dizzied and bereft. He peered out from the sheets, watching as Hannibal stepped into the adjacent bathroom. He could hear fabric rustling and the opening and closing of a drawer. When he returned, he was barefoot and the BSHCI jumpsuit hung around his waist, barely clinging to his hips. He strode closer to the bed, a clear bottle clutched in his hand. Will followed his movements, his throat moving sluggishly at the sight of Hannibal’s bare chest and the bulge of his erection pressing against the tight black material of his boxers that was just visible between the parting of the cloth. Between the sight of the bottle, Hannibal’s apparent desire, and his position on the bed, Will could barely cling to his composure as the impending invasion of his body rushed steadily closer. 

Hannibal’s jumpsuit shuddered and slipped from his thighs as he reached the end of the bed and and he kicked it away, the last vestige of the past carelessly crumpled to the floor. Will watched, his heart thundering against his ribs as Hannibal took down the boxers after the jumpsuit. The sight of his hard cock, flush with pulsing veins, the flesh taut over engorged muscle, made the twirling at the center of Will’s body cinch even tighter. Saliva pooled at the corner of his mouth, and he swallowed thickly. He felt suddenly, achingly empty, hungry for a fullness that only the assurance of Hannibal’s body held. 

Hannibal caught his gaze as he uncapped the bottle with a loud click in the silence. Their eyes clashed then fit together, Hannibal’s holding promise and intention, Will’s cradling desperation and desire. 

He rounded the bed slowly, positioning himself behind Will’s raised hips once more. Caught between wanting to look and being unable to stand the fire of Hannibal’s gaze, Will pinned his eyes to the wall where the afterimage of Hannibal seemed to remain even after he blinked. His body was prickling with sensations that hadn’t even yet touched his skin, but the simple premonition of them was enough to cause him an overwrought tremble. 

He felt the bed sink with the weight of Hannibal’s body and he clenched his eyes shut as Hannibal touched the top of one buttock, smoothing down to his back. 

“Relax…” he murmured, leaning down to kiss the opposite swell of Will’s ass. 

Will tried to manage his reactions, comply to Hannibal’s urging, but he felt too wound tight. He’d spent far too long pushing down urges that were as natural as breathing air, but ones that came with far more severe consequences. Now, they all felt like they were spilling out of him, rushing to the edges like the swell of the sea below. 

Hannibal’s opposite hand came gently between his legs, slick with lube. A quaking exhale left Will’s lips, his body reacting violently to even this soft touch. His cock gave a desperate twitch between his legs, and his hips dipped forward into the sheets in a conflicted attempt to both escape and indulge. Hannibal’s free hand settled into the sheets next to his head and he bent over him, one knee slicing up between Will’s weak, trembling thighs as he patiently followed him into the sheets. His mouth pressed to Will’s naked shoulder, laying half a dozen kisses along the line of his trapezius while his fingers played along the taut curve of his ass. The warmth of his lips laid Will open until Hannibal’s fingers could quest between his buttocks once more to the yearning entrance. The lube had grown warm from the heat of his hand, and the wet press of his touch rendered in Will an aching desire. He hesitantly pushed his hips back up, groaning as the spaces created were filled with Hannibal’s stroking fingers. He caressed the crevice of his ass with nimble, alluring movements that made Will’s breath hitch in his throat and his hips roll back for more. The surging pleasure he’d felt from Hannibal’s mouth and hand on his cock returned to clench the core of his being with threatening vitality.

Hannibal’s mouth trailed down the line of his spine as he opened up the space between them for the rise of Will’s hips. He clasped his hand to Will’s side, fingers steady and possessive as he began to consistently circle his fingertips against the taut clench of muscle. His touch inspired Will’s body to submit, first taking long, slow circles around his trembling hole before honing in on the opening orifice. Will could feel himself giving way beneath the insistent pressure, and he sank back on his heels. Digging his elbows into the sheets, he arched sharply to spread himself open to the invasion of Hannibal’s touch. 

“That’s good,” he heard Hannibal issue another soft praise as his hand shifted from Will’s side to the small of his back. 

The heel of his palm pressed to the curve of Will’s spine in encouragement of his position as the pressure of his fingers increased. His movements were cinching down to tiny circles against the unfurling flesh. Will panted into the sheets, rocking his hips back into Hannibal’s hand until he felt one single digit slip into his waiting body, sliding slow and steady to the hilt of Hannibal’s knuckle. He went still, a strangled cry burying itself into the comfort of the mattress. 

“Beautiful boy…” Hannibal’s voice was a soft whisper, rasping across his ears in an echo that he knew would resound forever if he allowed it to. His stomach quaked at the thought. 

Hannibal’s finger twisted slowly inside him, and his hips quivered with resistance at the initial dichotomy of discomfort and pleasure. He could hear himself breathing heavily as Hannibal drew him back with a gentle but firm pressure against his lower back. Hannibal’s thumb stroked tenderly over the twitch of Will’s spine, drawing surrender out of him until the clench of his body relaxed. 

He began to move into the submissive, velvet clasp of Will’s body, his finger pumping slowly. The shallow, steady movements worked open the outer circle of muscle and shifted deeper until the penetration became harder and more deliberate. Will breathed into the hot cradle of the sheets as the pleasure began to bloom inside of him. At last, he couldn’t stop himself from bearing down on Hannibal’s finger with small grinding motions, moaning each time Hannibal’s finger impaled him fully. As the sensations hurled him past the first limitations of discomfort, he was desperate for more than one what one finger could offer. He could feel himself beginning to gape open, and the swell of pleasure inside of him longed for more friction. 

“Hannibal…” he panted, his hips slowing, “Please… I …”

Hannibal’s finger slowed to a few languid thrusts then slipped out gently, leaving Will clinging to the lingering memory of his flesh filling him. Will groaned, ready to protest against another half-finished moment of foreplay until he felt the pressure of two digits circling his opening. He went achingly silent as Hannibal’s fingertips made half a dozen circuits around Will’s asshole until it was burgeoning and budding. Will choked back another cry, biting down on his lower lip as Hannibal’s fingers sank into him with exquisite pleasure. His teeth clenched over flesh as his tender insides stretched open, accepting the width of Hannibal’s conjoined fingers. 

He heard Hannibal utter a ragged, aroused sigh as his ass clenched down, taking Hannibal’s fingers in deep. His fingers flexed around Will’s hip, readjusting with possessive massaging motions before he pulled Will back up and thrust into him. Will gasped as Hannibal’s fingers pounded deeper into him. A jolt of pleasure went through him as his prostate swelled beneath Hannibal’s touch and forced him into an overwrought convulsion. His hips trembled and twisted away, a cry perching at his lips before flying carelessly away. 

Hannibal’s hand clenched harder over his hip bone, dragging him back into position and seating him hard on his knuckles. He began to pump his fingers in deep, deliberate thrusts into Will’s ass, merciless and incessant. Pleasure reared through Will’s stomach, winding around his cock desperately as Hannibal battered his engorged prostate. He clung to his stamina, fingernails barely grasping onto control until he wondered if Hannibal wished to drive him to the edge like this.

When Hannibal’s fingers paused only for a moment to fill the gaping space with a third finger, Will gasped for air, clawing at the moment of abatement. The reprieve was short-lived. In moments, he’d returned to the same punishing pace, complete with the ache of stretching flesh and muscle. The addition of a third finger inside him multiplied the sensations as Hannibal’s fingertips fully curled over his prostate with each stroke. His hips writhed wildly beneath Hannibal’s touch, testing his compliance.

“Han… Hannibal…” Will choked into the sheets at last, his body trembling and aching for relief. 

“What is it, darling?” Hannibal murmured, the husky baritone of his voice sending a shiver climbing up each vertebrae of Will’s spine.

Here, his fingers slowed, almost torturously so in sudden contrast to the previous moments of unending assault on his fevered prostate. The prolonged pause between each deliberate stroke proved to be equally agonizing.

“I…” Will panted into the sheets, as Hannibal’s fingers hit hard and deep, “I won’t make it…”

“You will,” Hannibal replied softly, confidant in his certainty. 

Will pressed his eyes shut, buttoning back another row of moans as Hannibal’s fingers speared into him a slow thrust. Between his trembling thighs, his hard, aching cock slapped softly against his belly with the movement. 

“Please…?” he tried, his voice raw from his dry throat. 

The last time he’d said ‘please’ to Hannibal, he’d gotten what he wanted. Somehow, he did not think it would be as effective now, but it was all he had. 

“What was that you said last time?” Hannibal questioned, his fingers fucking deliberately into him again. 

Will’s cheeks flushed against the sweat-soaked cheeks, his lips working to give up the words he knew Hannibal wanted to hear.

“I…-” he cut off with a cry as Hannibal’s fingers detoured directly to his prostate and massaged the inflamed flesh. “I… I need you… Hannibal.”   


The words spilled from his lips, halting and broken but never more true than in that moment. 

Hannibal’s fingers slid from his suddenly, leaving him reeling and ravenous for the same torture he’d just pleaded for a reprieve from. He lifted his twirling head from the mattress as he heard the cap of the lube opening once more. From beneath pleasure-laden lids, he watched Hannibal coat the length of his cock until his dusky, vein-adorned flesh glistened in the golden, sunset light. Will trembled, shifting his knees apart on the bed as he waited. His stomach was clenching and quaking with anticipation, pulses of pleasure seizing his cock. He felt as though he might break as soon as Hannibal was inside him, and he clung desperately to his failing strength.

Hannibal tossed the lube onto the bed and climbed on after him, his gaze dark with single-minded intention. He came down over Will, the warmth of his body and the scratch of his chest hair washing sensations over Will’s back. His mouth traipsed along Will’s neck and ear as his hips pressed to Will’s ass. The hard, slickness of his cock dragged between Will’s parted asscheeks, the head of him nudging against his aching, open hole. His hips arched though he bit his tongue against further begging. His breath quickened when he felt Hannibal reach between them and direct himself firmly to the acceptance of Will’s body. 

Will dropped his head into the sheets, breathing unevenly as the pressure burst inside him, seeming to shatter him open at last. The first slide of Hannibal’s cock into him was achingly slow, pushing into taut, tender flesh. At first, his muscles contracted wildly, dull pain vibrating along the center of his body like electrical pulses. He grabbed for Hannibal’s hand where it was planted in the sheets, his nails digging into Hannibal’s flesh as he muffled a cry into the sheets. At last, his body gave up the last of its resistance. He felt Hannibal’s hips press against his ass, signaling that he was entirely filled, and he lapsed against the sheets in sudden relief. He was throbbing in pain, but the hot weight of Hannibal inside him nursed the low thrum of pleasure.

Hannibal wrapped one arm around Will’s middle, his hand clasping tight just beneath Will’s left breast as he rolled his hips back, slow and incremental. Still, the first full thrust of his hips against Will’s ass made him arch into the sheets and forced a pitiful cry from his lips. He was trembling around Hannibal’s body, his cock giving up gushes of pre-cum from the tormenting pressure on his prostate. Behind him, he felt Hannibal’s forehead drag against his shoulder blade with the vibration of a guttural moan. Over the thundering of his own heartbeat, Will could hear how ragged and obliterated Hannibal’s exhales were. His hand was quaking against Will’s flesh, his arm threatening give out. They could both scarcely move for a moment.

“Hannibal…” Will whispered, his mouth feeling numb and unwieldy around the syllables.

At his urging, Hannibal’s mouth crushed desperate and inelegant against his flesh with a raspy moan. His hips moved jaggedly in a short motion that was more of a grind, before he managed to unmarry their flesh for a full thrust. Will moaned, arching his back to meet the slap of Hannibal’s hips against his backside. The first painful sensations were slipping away, replaced with a deep, wanton pleasure.

“God…” he panted into the sheets, grinding his ass back on Hannibal’s buried cock in a plea that he not stop. 

Hannibal’s teeth scraped his shoulder, sending a rash of goosebumps down Will’s back as he thrust against him again, this time harder, deeper. Will’s elbows slipped out from under him, his chest and face collapsing fully into the sheets as Hannibal’s cock split him open. Hannibal growled a low sound of pleasure, and tore his mouth from Will’s shoulder. Straightening above him, he grabbed both of Will’s hips and fucked him hard into the sheets. The air seemed to leave Will’s lungs as though he had been gut-punched, and he found himself gasping for air and for purchase in the sheets just before Hannibal plunged into him again. His head spun and his body clenched wildly around Hannibal’s cock, threatening to give up beneath the pleasure of only a few ragged thrusts. 

“Hannibal…” he whimpered once more, his fingers tearing into the sheets above his head.

He felt so close and Hannibal’s cock was so deep inside of him that tears were springing to his eyes. His whole core and chest felt like it was being ripped open, and he could barely stand it.

Above him, Hannibal’s thumbs stroked his back, meeting across the slim width of Will’s waist. 

“Don’t resist; trust me,” he heard him murmur, husky and breathless, “Let me hear you.”

“I trust you,” Will panted into the sheets, his voice strung out on pleasure and desire. 

In the midst of it all, the confession came easily, far too easily. It ignored all logic, all the harm they’d caused each other, all the resistance that Will had spent so much precious time coddling; but it didn’t matter anymore. It was finally the truth.

At his admission, Hannibal’s fingers clenched around his hips and he rocked into him, the first thrust of a steady rhythm. Within moments, Will burst into a thousand shards beneath him, his mouth stretched open in agonized pleasure to spill cries and saliva into the sheets. Hannibal’s cock was rending him open, battering his distended prostate, and he felt dangerously close. He yearned for it to go on just a little longer, for it was a pleasure he’d always almost imagined, but not quite grasped. In the roughly built walls of his mind palace, he’d visited the desires in the darkened corners, fostering heat in the cover of night, but when the morning light awoke him, he had always zipped himself into the man he imagined that he had to be. For so many years, he’d tried to tear it all down, but he was suddenly coming together in the midst of coming apart. No more teacups. No more rules of disorder that bound them. They were breaking time itself. 

He cried out and went stiff against all desire to cling to the building pleasure. Blinding pleasure tore through the center of his body, racing across nerve endings and limbs to the farthest reaches of his fingertips. It took him whole like he’d always imagined it would, like being eaten alive by a mouth of fire. Gorged, drowned, plucked, and roasted. He’d never been so certain of his fate, nor so at ease with the thought of dying. 

He sank down, spent and quaking uncontrollably, and he felt Hannibal pull out of him. When he rolled Will’s languishing figure onto his back, however, his gaze was dark and turbulent with his own unfulfilled pleasure. He came down upon Will, pressing his knees into his shoulders and piercing him again. Will cried out, his weakened, oversensitized body keening into the sheets as Hannibal’s still-throbbing hardness pounded into his tender, agonized flesh. Dizzy euphoria took over his head, a mixture of post-orgasm bliss and pained ecstasy. Though he knew it to be impossible, he thought he might climax all over again, his body and senses screaming for a relief that couldn’t entirely be delivered. He grabbed for Hannibal, arms catching around his neck. 

With Will’s ankles dangling over his shoulders, Hannibal planted his hands into the sheets and pressed his face into Will’s neck. His cheeks and forehead were lined with perspiration, ragged exhales imparting from his lips as he worked his hips in the final throes of pleasure. He hunched down into Will’s body, low, shattered moans cracking from his throat as the spasms took him. He gave one last jerk of his hips, seating his cock hard inside Will’s body as he came, filling him with a flood of hot release. Will felt each quiver and ejaculation intimately, his own body trembling in sympathy and shivering in pleasure. He scraped his fingers over Hannibal’s naked, slick back, dragging him close with each shudder that threatened to tear him from his arms.

At last, Hannibal sank down against him, breathing so heavily that Will thought he might truly be choking on his own pleasure. 

He stroked his fingers over the back of Hannibal’s head, kissed his temple, and murmured softly, “It’s all right.”

  
Hannibal trembled in his arms, his own limbs tightening around Will’s body. He didn’t lift his head from Will’s neck, but instead, pressed his nose harder into the dip of his clavicle. His flaccid cock was still inside of Will’s body, but neither of them moved to disconnect themselves. 

At last, Hannibal’s shoulders shuddered and his mouth turned to bestow a kiss against Will’s neck, spreading warmth across his flesh.

“What have you done to me?” he murmured, his voice devastated beyond recognition, “You destroy me, and yet… I am yours to destroy…”

  
Will felt a deep tremble seize deep within his body and he turned his mouth into Hannibal's, whispering, “Don’t…don’t….”

  
Hannibal caught his lips, kissing him tremulously, his palm charting up Will’s chest to clutch his cheek.

“You damned, beautiful creature,” he whispered, imparting fervent, fleeting kisses along Will’s lower lip and chin.

“Please,” Will insisted, pressing his eyes closed over hot tears, “Don’t.”

“I must,” Hannibal whispered, his mouth spreading adoration over his cheeks and mouth, “You devastate me. I devastate myself because of you.”

Will’s eyes slipped open to meet Hannibal’s, and they were glossy in return, moisture clinging to his lower lashes. 

“You must know,” Hannibal murmured, his thumb stroking gently over Will’s cheek to swipe away a tear. “Three years was but a minute. It could have been eternity, but for you… only a minute.”   


Will pulled him down, unable to look into his expression of absolute adoration any longer. He pressed their mouths together, kissing him slowly and deeply to quiet his tongue. Hannibal sank obediently against him, sliding at last from Will’s body and onto his side. With their chests aligned, Will tightened his arm around Hannibal’s neck and lost himself deliberately to the exchange of tongues and the prurient scrape of teeth that was gentle but marked with promises of more. Will’s fingers knit through Hannibal’s hair, and Hannibal’s palm stroked his chest and side, drawing on kindling desire that rested just beneath the surface, waiting only for their bodies to follow. 

The kiss lasted until the sun sank from the horizon beyond, and the warmth of their bodies was stoked only by their kisses, turning from slow to desperate. Will slid his palm down Hannibal’s quaking stomach to his half hardness, taking him into his grasp in an indulgent pull. Hannibal arched into him, his mouth departing from Will’s to expel halting exhales. 

His first feel of Hannibal’s cock sent a warm gush of pleasure through his groin, chasing away lingering emotion. He followed the feeling, and dragged his palm down Hannibal’s cock once more, inciting a throb to pulse through the length of him. Hannibal’s fingers dipped into his side, a moan winding from his lips. When Will stroked him a third time, he pressed his lips hard against Will’s and dipped his own fingers between them to catch Will’s rising cock. Will’s teeth dug into Hannibal’s lower lip as their hands moved in slow synchronicity below between them, nursing the first blushes of desire to flush engorgement. 

Will came to full hardness first, having orgasmed sooner than Hannibal, and he broke their mouths apart, panting. He grabbed Hannibal’s wrist, taking his touch from his erection.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he whispered huskily to Hannibal as his palm spread over Hannibal’s thigh and pulled it sharply over his own hip, “I’m going to come in you…. Because you’re mine... ”

The words trembled from his lips, causing a swell of pleasure to take his senses. He needed to say it, he realized, if not for Hannibal’s sake then for his own. It was the piece of the truth that he could bear to hear out loud, to cling to, if he could not endure the softer, more gentle things that threatened his certainty of what he must do.

  
Hannibal trembled against him, arms tightening around Will’s shoulders as Will dipped his touch to Hannibal’s exposed ass cheek. He stroked the hot crevice, enamored by the throbbing heat that spilled from Hannibal’s core and the soft flesh that surrounded the tight entrance. Hannibal hitched his leg higher, a desirous moan whispering from his lips as Will’s fingers brushed tantalizingly close. His hips arched towards Will’s touch, and their cocks dragged alongside one another between the clench and press of their bodies. Will groaned in return, his hips grinding as he pressed two fingers to Hannibal’s hole. He was lax from pleasure and release, his muscles unspooling generously beneath even the sparsest ministrations. In moments, Will’s middle finger was working past the initial clench of muscle to thrilling heat.

“Get the lube,” Hannibal rasped, his limbs quaking with impatience.

Will extricated his hand and sat up, searching the bed. He discovered the lube discarded near their feet and returned. He found his hands trembling as he uncapped the bottle and squeezed too much onto his fingers. He didn’t feel hesitation or uncertainty, only desire that bit at the moorings of his self-control.

Hannibal lay below him, his leg still bent up towards his chest, his ass arched in offering. His gaze was hazy and desirous as he returned Will’s lustful inspection of his body. 

Will crawled closer, pressing one knee between Hannibal’s spread legs and bringing his fingers back to the electrifying warmth of his hole. Hannibal’s brow furrowed, his lids fluttering closed with the simple swipe of Will’s fingers between his cheeks. Will leaned down to catch flesh in his mouth, just above Hannibal’s hip as his fingers massaged with insistent pressure. 

He was not as patient as Hannibal had been with him, but Hannibal’s body submitted eagerly to his urging. When Will rubbed his fingertips into the center of Hannibal’s blooming entrance, he took two fingers into his ass, his face drawn with pleasure. Will held back a weak groan of pleasure as Hannibal’s hot, velvety passage clenched and trembled around his impaling digits. He pressed his forehead to Hannibal’s hip, breathing heavily as he grappled with the monstrous return of his desire. 

This time felt different. Instead of feeling desperate for Hannibal to fill the empty chambers of his body, he felt consumed by a new shade of desire to possess and pleasure the man beneath him. He wanted to reduce him to nothing more than whimpering, trembling mass of ravished nerve-endings. He wanted to be his only thought, the only name he could speak when he was done with him.

Lifting his head, he grabbed Hannibal’s ass, spreading him open to the invasion of his hand. His fingers sank deep, and Hannibal’s back arched, hands darting into the sheets. Pleasure pulled tight through Will’s stomach at the sight of him twisting to his whims, and he forced his fingers into him again. Establishing a quick, hard pattern that mirrored what Hannibal had done to him, Will watched with satisfaction as Hannibal slipped onto his stomach, his shoulders and back rippling with pleasure. 

With one knee in the mattress, Hannibal rocked his hips, dragging his hardening cock against the sheets and pushing his ass back to meet Will’s incoming fingers. The muscles at his lower back flexed with each grind of his hips, sweat glinting off the golden plane of his back. His flesh trembled beneath Will’s grasp as Will’s fingers plunged into his compliant body in slick exclamations above his low, winding moans. 

It was a beautiful, desperate sight that Will let himself indulge in. The first impatient rush of pleasure was over, the initial doubt and fear having slipped to some small corner of his mind, and he wanted to savor this. He wanted to savor _ him _ . 

Drawing closer to him, he pinned Hannibal’s hip down to the mattress and fit a third finger into his trembling, wet passage. Hannibal lapsed beneath him, soft and pliant as Will’s fingers sank deep into him. A deep-seated tremble worked through him, sending a quiet whimper from his lips as Will’s touch encountered his swelling prostate. Enthralled by the plush bulge of flesh, Will circled it slowly. Hannibal arched beneath him, his face digging into the sheets with a louder, muffled cry. 

Will bent, laying a slow row of kisses along Hannibal’s spine, his tongue adoring the knobs of bone and the stretch of muscle. His sweat tasted sweet and salty against his senses, and his mouth tingled with an intensive hunger that longed for Hannibal’s flesh. He dipped lower, finding the curve of his buttock. His teeth scraped across the swell, down toward his embedded fingers. He sank to his stomach between Hannibal’s trembling thighs as his mouth and nose nestled into the moistened crevice. Hannibal stilled beneath him, his breath coming in sharp, panting exhales as Will’s fingers slipped out of his body. Arching his arm beneath Hannibal’s thigh, Will grasped his hip in one hand and his buttock in the other. He yanked him in, crushing his trembling hole to his lips. Hannibal seized beneath him, fingers dipping into the sheets, a muted groan passing through gritted teeth. In the next moment, he was rolling his hips back, his quaking back arching sharply to open himself to Will’s mouth. 

Below him, Will suckled the quivering flesh before laving his tongue in deep strokes against his yielding entrance. Opened by his fingers already, the clenching muscle submitted obediently to his seeking tongue. Nudging past the outer resistance, Will’s tongue sank into his body with teasing pressure. Hannibal groaned, his hips inching back against Will’s face in a barely restrained thrust for more. Will clenched his asscheek harder, pushing into his ardently. His lips pulled back, teeth snaring around tender flesh in gentle punishment.

“Will…” Hannibal’s voice was ragged, a pleasant addition to the low tone of pleasure that was pulsing against Will’s ears.

Hannibal’s hips dipped back down, driving his hard, leaking cock into the sheets, as he searched for fulfilment, but just as soon, he arched back again, presenting himself for further torture.

Will groaned a low sound of pleasure into Hannibal’s flesh, his tongue slipping out and then back into him. Despite his writhing, Hannibal’s body remained sublimely susceptible to his touches, allowing him entrance again and again without resistance.

Will dragged his tongue along the cleft of him, tracing lazily around the pulsing hole, and languidly penetrating him in a slow pattern that fed the ache of hunger resting in his jaw and stomach. Each time his tongue plunged into him, the need wrenched tighter in his stomach, and he could feel Hannibal beginning to tremble beneath him. He was taut with desire, his aching cock trapped between his quaking stomach and the silky sheets. Will could feel the agony working through him, the constrained desire to break free and demand completion. He knew he wanted fulfillment, but he also knew that he wouldn’t abide slow, excruciating pleasure from anyone but him. This fact alone was enough to keep Will between his legs, making his flesh wet, swollen, and ravenous with his tongue. He stayed beneath him until his jaw ached and Hannibal was gritting the sheets in his fists, his lips giving up anguished cries into the mattress. A mixture of saliva and lube was gushing down to Hannibal’s seizing testicles when at last he lifted his head. In the sparse lighting, Hannibal’s hole was puffy, red, and glistening. He was perfectly compliant, lying still, save for the trembling sensations that worked down his spine. 

Will grabbed the lube and rose on his knees between Hannibal’s thighs. He could still feel the ache of Hannibal’s cock inside his own body when he moved, and the prospect of implanting the same enduring reminder inside of Hannibal in return caused his heart to pound with rhapsodic excitement. 

When he opened the bottle, his hands were steady, the tremble having left him somewhere between his first plunge inside of Hannibal and the present moment. He squeezed the lube into his clean hand and clasped it to his cock, now entirely hard and yearning beneath his palm. He gritted his teeth against surges of pleasure as his fingers clenched slick and firm over the inflamed flesh. 

Below him, Hannibal rolled onto his back, longing and desire written into his expression. His own cock was swollen against his trembling stomach, aching for release. He stretched his arms above his head in a flagrant display of submission, his knees arching up towards his rapidly expanding sides. In the fading light of day, he could’ve been as beautiful as Lucifer, freshly fallen from heaven to the destruction of the earth. Will went to him, at ease with the description and with his place next to him. 

He caught Hannibal’s legs over his arms and pressed his mouth to Hannibal’s lips. His cock, wet with lube, trailed along Hannibal’s, rubbing with vexing slickness into the softness of his belly. Hannibal’s arms wound around his neck, fingers sinking into hair. 

“Don’t tempt me,” he whispered in Will’s ear, but his voice was ragged, holding none of the same confidence and arrogance that Will had come to know. 

Will rocked his hips against him slowly once more, pressing hot kisses to Hannibal’s jaw and earlobe. 

“You’re mine… remember?” he murmured, “Mine to do with as I please.”

  
Hannibal’s arms tightened about him, his lips uttering jagged exhale. The arches of his feet curled against Will’s back, heels digging in.

Will dragged his mouth down Hannibal’s neck, searching for the undulation of his pulse. His tongue slid out, tracing along the line of his throat to the rapid thrum of blood. He let his teeth dig in, suckling on the flesh as Hannibal had done to him, leaving behind his own mark until Hannibal’s head canted back into the sheets and his fingers clenched in his hair. 

“Look at me,” Will ordered, nipping his jaw sharply.

Hannibal’s head lolled back towards him, his lids fluttering open. His expression was stricken with desperation and longing, evolved from years of desire, violence, and contention. Finally, it had all simmered down into the savory sweetness of compliance and completion.

Pressing one elbow into the sheets, Will reached between them to press his cock to the tender, open center of his hole. Hannibal’s forehead rippled, his lids struggling to remain open as Will entered him. A tide of pleasure took over Will’s own body as he sank into Hannibal and the heat of his clenching passage swallowed him. Euphoria danced around his head and his hips smacked against Hannibal’s ass, causing Hannibal to arch and slide against the sheets. Will hunched over him, messily smearing his mouth across Hannibal’s chin and lips to manage his reactions. Digging his forehead into Hannibal’s cheek, he braced his hands in the sheets and thrust against him. A groan leapt from his lips as Hannibal’s ass squeezed his cock with threatening pressure. He dipped his head lower, setting his mouth against Hannibal’s neck once more as dragged his hips into unsteady rhythm, punctuated by low cries and groans each time their bodies met. 

It wasn’t the brutal pace that Hannibal had set, but a slower, grinding one that made him feel each sensation vividly. Each moment that he wasn’t fully inside Hannibal, he wished to be, and each moment that his hips were entrenched against him, he wished to pierce him again, just to feel the tremble and twist of his body. The hazy push and pull kept him in a perpetual state of exquisite ecstasy, and directed his hips in slow, steady undulations until heat and perspiration rose between their bodies, clasping their flesh in a sauna of pleasure. 

He lifted his head from Hannibal’s neck, aching for the sight of his face, held in the same collision of agony and gratification. Hannibal’s head was tilted back, lids clenched closed over blushing cheeks and parted lips. 

Panting with exertion, Will demanded, once more, “Look at me.”

Hannibal’s lashes fluttered, heavy lids dragging open to gaze back at him in pained and pleasured devotion. He stroked his hand from Will’s hair to his cheek, clutching his jaw as Will fucked into him.

“What do you see?” Will breathed, his head feeling light and close to the exhilaration of climax.

Hannibal’s pupils surged dark, his lips coming open with the repose of one of his precious Botticelli’s. His eyes were glistening and enraptured when he whispered, “God.”

Will sank down against him, catching his lips in a kiss that was closer to violence than passion. He felt reckless and untethered, the last of his restraint slashed free by Hannibal’s intonation. He thrust hard into him, jarring wild cries from both their throats. The bedframe groaned beneath the sudden, punishing movement, the meeting of their flesh loud above frenzied, ecstatic exclamations. Fire burned in Will’s belly and unleashed at last into Hannibal’s waiting body, gushing his wrath and love into the space that Hannibal’s devotion had created for him. 

His heartbeat thundered in his ears as he came down from the ravaging pleasure. His limbs were trembling, truly torn from all strength. He sank down into Hannibal’s arms, sweating and shaking uncontrollably. Hannibal’s own embrace was quaking and impatient, twisting him down into the sheets. Will’s back hit the mattress, and Hannibal rose above him, his body still impaled on Will’s cock. He took his cock in his fist and worked himself towards completion, his expression twisted in rapturous pleasure. Release jetted from his cock, painting Will’s chest in the creamy consequence of his pleasure. He tasted it on his mouth, and felt it hot on his cheeks and the quivering expanse of his stomach. Hannibal grabbed at the headboard as he arched, his head snapping back as the spasms of the orgasm shook him. His body clamped and quivered around Will’s trapped cock as he milked the last of the pleasure of his wilting cock, sending the last jolts of pleasure through Will’s loins. Will felt entirely untethered from the earth, his dizzied thoughts only able to comprehend the sight of Hannibal above him in transcended ecstasy. He moaned and reached up for him, weak hands smearing through cum to squeeze his sides and chest. He could feel the trembles going through Hannibal’s body, dwindling into aftershocks. 

Finally, Hannibal crumpled against him, his face in Will’s neck. He was shaking, as shattered and spent as Will. Will wrapped his arms around him and held him tight, feeling so unmoored and yet complete that he thought he might drift away from both of their bodies.

At last, the tremors began to smooth out and Hannibal drooped to the bed beside him, his head against Will’s chest. His leg was wound around Will’s, his hand possessive on his chest. 

Beyond the window, the sun had sunk entirely from sight. The dark ocean spread out to the ends of the earth, holding a thrall and a promise. Somewhere beyond, the Dragon prowled.

“He could come any moment,” he whispered into the falling dark.

“There is no earthly force that could conquer you,” Hannibal murmured, his voice soft and reverent as though he spoke in the echo of a deserted chapel. “You have transcended even the Devil, the yoke of humanity.”

  
“You?” Will murmured, shifting head to gaze at Hannibal’s glinting eyes in the dark. “You’re giving up?”

  
“There is nothing to fight,” Hannibal replied simply, his fingers stroking Will’s chest slowly. “Does the earth resist the forces of natures? Does the ocean resist the wind?”

  
He swallowed, reaching to gently trace the curve of Hannibal’s cheekbone and jaw, “You’d go with me?”

  
“Yes.”

“And if we die tonight?”

“Then so be it,” Hannibal murmured, clasping Will’s hand to his face, “Death is not something I fear.” 

“You’d be happy?” Will asked, mesmerized by his calm, drawn to the acceptance in his eyes. 

“You are with me. I could not imagine a world in which death by your side would be unwelcome.”

Will rolled into him, and pressed his lips to Hannibal’s, his eyes shut over the warmth of relief. 

“I always thought I’d die by the sea,” he whispered huskily against Hannibal’s mouth, “It’s the only place that’s ever felt like home.”

“The only place you’ve ever felt safe,” Hannibal agreed, his arms winding tight around Will’s midsection, “I remember.”   


A pained smile tugged at Will’s lips. That admittance had come so long ago, in a different time, yet Hannibal’s memory of it left him with the dull ache of happiness in his chest. 

“Then let him come,” he murmured, “I’m home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/m-i-z-u-m-o-n-o)


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